


Chan x Black reader

by Thatkidsyd04



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Anorexia, Anorexic Reader, Bang Chan is a Good Friend, Eating Disorders, F/M, Projection fic, Self-Indulgent, Soft Bang Chan, Stray Kids are Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29014242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatkidsyd04/pseuds/Thatkidsyd04
Summary: Not enough Black Y/N stories. I decided to fix that.
Relationships: Chan & Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Chan x Black reader

You and Chan were good friends since you moved to Korea on a job offer. You met each other casually while he was on a coffee run before he debuted and since then you two have been inseparable. You were at his first concert as a group, and eventually you got to know everyone as the years went on. When you did finally meet everyone you were elated to know that there were so many kind guys out here on the other side of the planet. He would often invite you over to the dorm just to hang out, whether it be just to two of you or with the whole group. There was never a dull moment when you were over and eventually Chan started opening up to you more. You knew about his struggles with feeling inadequate as a leader but you always had great advice and made each other smile by the end of the conversation, no matter what.

While your visits were never too frequent, within the past few months however, the meetings were becoming a bit more sparse and Chan began to notice something about you.  Each time he saw you, you were much thinner than before and the hugs you gave weren’t the same. You felt awkward and boney and no matterwhat you two talked about, he couldn’t get it out of his head. He tried to dismiss the thought at first of just you were exercising a bit more or trying to be a bit healthier but there seemed to be no end. Once he noticed, he made a promise to himself, that if you ever looked as if you were a danger to yourself, he’d say something. While you were unaware of such agreement, you easily caught on to how his eyes lingered over your hipbones and how he would silently gawk at your collarbones. And while you tried to pay him no mind, you had a feeling he was going to say something soon. Some part of you was deeply afraid of being cut off and having the friendship die then and there. Another part of you wanted him to notice and maybe even be a little excited. It meant what you were doing was worth it, that someone acknowledges what’s happening in your mind. You had recently cornrowed your hair and styled a new lace front to hide how your hair had started falling out in clumps. You started wearing heavier concealer to cover the permanent bags and dark circles under your eyes and baggier sweatshirts to cushion the feeling of the world against your bones.  


People at your job were starting to worry too. Coworkers often asking if you wanted to go out with them for lunch or offering to cook for you. Every time you declined. It almost felt like a test of will power. Who would win? You, the person competent enough to graduate from an Ivy League and get a job offer to travel across the world and work at a world renowned company as CFO? Or your coworker from accounting that you’re literally the boss of? You remember how you looked when you came to Korea, you had thick thighs, thick curly hair, and a thick butt. While you’ve had these things for your whole life. You never really liked them. They always felt like too much. Too much thigh to the point where they would spill over the sides of chairs. Too much hair that was “unmanageable” and needed a specific routine to be styled. Too much butt to the point where anyone- girls and guys alike- would yell “nice ass” while you were walking down the hallways at school or even try to smack it if you were waiting in line. You were too much, if you couldn’t handle yourself then who could? And for your whole life it had been your goal to make yourself “manageable”, small, and “bite-sized”. No one would say anything if you’re not too much. But then the main issue became balancing these wants with the fact you lived with your parents. Now that you were on your own. You essentially fell into yourself with no way to get out. But some part of you is deeply pleased with how far you’ve come. How “manageable” your food intake is. How small you are in general. You’ve gone above and beyond. As you should. As you always have. It is expected of you.

You knock on the Stray Kids dorm entrance expecting Chan to open the door. Instead you get a surprised Seungmin who greets you with a “Hey y/n, I like your new hair! Come in, Chan’s probably asleep in his room. He was in the studio all last night.” As he finishes his sentence he seems slightly perturbed, he looks as if he’s on the verge of asking a question but he quickly shuts his mouth and makes his way towards the hall with all the bedrooms. You sit lightly on the couch as you watch Felix and Jisung play video games. They greeted you when they saw you walk in, but otherwise they were completely engrossed in the game. You were almost as into it as them, looking for distractions from the fact that your stomach was cramping again hoping that the growling wasn’t enough to distract them from their game. Not too long after, Seungmin reenters the room with Chan in tow, they both looked worried and Chan looks like he’s on the verge of tears. He takes a deep breath. “Umm... Y/N, can I talk to you?” Trying to keep the conversation casual while understanding what he’s upset about, you respond “Sure.” You make no move to get up from the couch. You’re not sure who knows what about the situation, or if there’s a situation at all. So you act clueless, if only to get him to confirm your suspicions. He says, “In private, please.” At this point Jisung and Felix have stopped paying attention to their game and the whole room seems to freeze. The other members on the couch have stopped murmuring and they all look over at you with a sense of unease.   
  
This was not the attention you were looking for. 

Suddenly the room feels more heavy as your heart starts pounding louder and definitively feel afraid. You swallow, “Sure.” You get up from the couch. Boney hand gripping the arm of which to help you balance. You sway slightly and you can feel all eight pairs of eyes on you. You steadied yourself quickly, your inner smug persona completely gone. You were **afraid**. You quickly made your way down the hall with Chan to his room.

Once you’re both inside, he closes the door behind you two. You hear the murmur on the other side of said door return. Once he’s done with the door he turns to you, “I don’t want anyone to hear this. In case you don’t want them to. And I’m going to need you to be honest with me. You lost a lot of weight since I met you, y/n. You know that right?”

“Oh really, have I? I haven’t really noticed honestly” your voice sounding deeply unconvinced of your mock surprise. It used to work on your parents at least. You know from the look in his eyes he won’t take that for an answer and the fear of being revealed settles deep within you. Yet somehow you manage to smirk, reveling in the acknowledgment that your efforts have been noticed. You finally did just enough to be noticed. Or maybe you did too much for him to be mad at you. No matter, you run your hands over your collarbones that protrude so nicely into your fingers. You slide your hand back and forth mindlessly, just trying to calm down.

“Stop playing around. I’m really worried about you. You’re my best friend and I don’t want to lose you.” He says, slightly miffed that you tried lying to him after you’ve known each other for so long. 

“You won’t lose me. There’s nothing wrong.” You say in a soft whisper, it’s worked on past friends who were concerned for you. But now you wonder if you’re trying to convince him or yourself of your situation.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me that the fact that I can see your collarbones through your sweatshirt you’re wearing in July is perfectly fine and nothing anyone should worry about. Please y/n if there’s anything I ask, it’s for you not to lie to me.” You look at the ground, past your thigh gap to your soft unicorn socks and think for a moment. There was something _wrong_ with you. You had gone above and beyond, as you _should_ , as you _always_ did, as _expected_ of you. You were still too much. Too much trouble for Chan to handle. So, you decide to warn him. 

“There’s nothing you can say to me that hasn’t been said before. I’m not fixable. Just let me be.” You said, hands shaking, only calmed by the feeling of the other tracing the spiders of bone and sinew that were the back of your hands. Your eyes darted to the floor again. You knew this was going to be it. The moment Chan cuts you out of his life for not being good enough. For you to alone with the fact that you are never good enough. Always too much. You tear up slightly. He can see the gears turning in your brain and gets worried that he’s overstepped. He decides to comfort you as much as he can.

“Don’t give up on yourself y/n. There’s so much more life to live and actually enjoy. You’re barely surviving y/n, let alone living. I just want you around. Who else will I share our inside jokes with? Or make me laugh myself to tears? Y/n, you don’t have to tell me. But there’s something wrong. Maybe I can’t make it right but can’t you see that it’s wrong? Don’t you want to fix it?” He starts looking for your eyes to make sure you were still present. 

You wiped the tears from your eyes and you started to sway like earlier. He put his arms around you for fear of you falling. “I can’t fix it. It doesn’t want to be fixed. Maybe I don’t want to be fixed.” You were fully crying at this point. Something few people have ever seen you do.  Chan leads you over to his bed, sets you down. You gasp and say, “it’s just been so long, you know? I’m not me without it. I’m barely a person with it. I’m surely nothing with out it.” You don’t know why you feel so compelled to open up to him but you feel as if it doesn’t happen now it never will. 

“How long, y/n?” He asks, running his hands over your shoulders and flinching at the sharp protrusions of your clavicle and shoulder-blades. He pulls you closer and your wrapped up in his chest. Your curls nestling his face as he held you tightly against him. Almost frightened by how tight he has the wrap himself around you.

“Since I was a kid.” You rasp out, “it’s just gotten worse since I’ve been here.” You sniffle, you sigh, and with another wave of sobs you say “I’m sorry. For everything. I shouldn’t have worried you. I shouldn’t have let it get this far. But I’m so happy. I’m sobbing in your arms and I’m happy that I let myself get this bad. I’m a monster.” You lean on him harder and try to hold tighter as a wave of dizziness washes over you.

He shudders processing that confession. “You’re not a monster. I can promise you that y/n. You’re my best friend, that’s why I’m here. You’re just having a rough time and romanticizing your pain right now. You’ll be ok. I’ll make sure of it. Right now I need you to calm down, take a rest, and breathe.” he conjures with confidence. You like to call this voice his “leader voice” as he sounds authoritative yet not strict.   
  
He offers you a baby wipe to clean up your face and let’s you nap in his room since you were deeply exhausted. You took up both those offers and as you entered a dreamless sleep, you felt a little safer knowing someone was watching out for you. That someone won’t let you fall.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, comment with any suggestions and I’ll see what I can do.


End file.
